


(only mostly) false memories

by angel_deux



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Head Injury, Mutual Pining, Temporary Amnesia, actually it's confabulation but, best friends bellamy and clarke last a decade without admitting they're in love with each other, it's amnesia adjacent, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 19:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16125191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_deux/pseuds/angel_deux
Summary: Bellamy's minor head injury creates a memory of asking out his best friend Clarke a few weeks ago.Which never happened.Unfortunately.





	(only mostly) false memories

**Author's Note:**

> here's a probably unnecessary disclaimer that this is just a silly fic i wrote in like three days and i am definitely not a doctor nor am in any way well versed in head injuries, confabulation, or hospital protocol. So don't expect a whole lot of accuracy. I just wanted to play around with the amnesia trope, and this is what happened, for some reason!

It’s not necessarily _weird_ for Abby to call in the middle of the day, but it’s uncommon enough that Clarke feels a lurch of fear when her mother’s contact image pops up on her phone.

It’s just…she called in the middle of the day when Clarke’s dad dropped dead of a heart attack, and when her ex-boyfriend Finn died in a car accident, and when her friend Lincoln was shot in a mugging. Abby has become like some inadvertent, phone-based grim reaper because her workaholic tendencies mean she’s always the first to know these things.

Abby’s usually just calling to make lunch plans, but it always gets Clarke’s heartrate going.

“Mom?”

She can’t help the tremor in her voice, but Abby doesn’t notice, launching immediately into a very intense, very uncharacteristic question.

“Are you dating anyone?”

Clarke scrunches her face in disbelief. _Am I dating anyone_? Her mother’s never been one of those parents who’s always on her to get married or provide grandkids or whatever else the stereotype is. She always seems like the last to know when Clarke’s actually seeing someone. She laughed at Clarke’s step-father Marcus and called him an insufferable meddler for trying to get Clarke to go out with the daughter of one of their friends.

Abby was there for The Rise and Fall of Finn and The Very Intense Week of Lexa, so she knows better than almost anyone how little interest Clarke has in giving her heart away to anyone else. Unless, like, Gina Rodriguez or Idris Elba are in the waiting room of the hospital begging for a hookup, Abby’s question is a strange one.

“No, I’m not dating anyone,” Clarke finally says, slow and suspicious. “Why?”

There’s a long pause from Abby, and Clarke can hear an agitated voice in the background. Frantic, almost, the words not audible, and…is that _Octavia_?

“You’re sure?” Abby asks. “Nothing’s changed between you and Bellamy in the past three weeks? This is important, so I need the truth, Clarke.”

_Bellamy_? So it’s definitely Octavia in the background. But what the hell is she doing at the hospital?

“What? No. He broke up with Echo like a month ago? But nothing’s changed between _us_.”

It’s the only possible thread she can see. Clarke’s dating life hasn’t changed, but _his_ has. It’s a pretty thin thread, though. Sure, they may be grossly codependent best friends, but she and Bellamy aren’t _actually_ the same person.

“Maybe that’s it,” Abby muses, and Clarke all but throws up her hands in exasperation. Her fingers itch to text Bellamy. It’s always her first instinct in a crisis. But then another voice filters through the background noise. It’s _him_ , sounding hoarse and a little confused. He’s asking: _what’d she say?_

“Mom, what’s going on?” she asks. She can feel pinpricks of dread rising, starting to choke her. Can hear Abby closing a door so the voices of her best friend and his little sister are cut off.

“I don’t want you to panic,” Abby says, which is the voice she uses when she’s about to impart Very Bad News, and Clarke’s brain just _stops_ for a second, just whites out with terror.

_Not him_ , she thinks desperately, and she’s already in motion, jumping off her bed and looking for her shoes.

“What’s wrong with Bellamy?” she asks. “What happened? Is he okay?”

“Physically, yes. Bellamy is _fine_ ,” Abby says, but that only makes it worse.

“ _Physically?!_ Mom!”

“Clarke! Listen to me. He’s _okay_. He’s awake, and he’s talking, and we’re taking him for some tests in a little bit. He was in an accident at his job site today. A minor sprain of his ankle, and he was hit on the head by some falling scaffolding. He lost consciousness at the site, but he woke up shortly after. He has full control of all motor functions, and his speech is normal. But.” Here, she takes a deep breath, as if knowing Clarke’s reaction isn’t going to be good. “He’s been having a few lapses in memory.”

“Lapses in memory? Like _amnesia_?”

Clarke’s an intern at the same hospital, so she _gets_ how Abby’s able to be so impassive. You have to be, because you need to be the calming force in the face of the horrible uncertainty that families are dealing with. Abby loves Bellamy. Clarke knows this. They cook the turkey together every Thanksgiving! He has his own stocking at their family Christmas party! But it’s easy to get mad at how blank Abby’s being, because this is Bellamy, and Clarke would love to be allowed to freak out. _Amnesia_ is something to freak out about!

“It’s not a major concern. He’s having trouble with a few things, which is well within the range of normal with this type of head injury. Some forgetfulness. He briefly forgot that Octavia’s husband passed.”

“Lincoln died four years ago!”

“Clarke, please take a few breaths. He’s not missing all four years. For the most part, he seems to remember everything else. And now that we’ve told him about Lincoln, he's able to recall the circumstances. But it looks like there are some false memories, too.” She lets out a tired little laugh. “Hence my question.”

Clarke, still looking for her left shoe under a pile of dirty clothes, takes a second to realize what Abby’s saying.

“ _He_ thought we were dating?”

“I made a joke about hoping that he still remembered me, and he said that I was his girlfriend’s mother.” Abby’s voice falters a little, and Clarke clings to this proof that she’s upset about this too. “I was pretty sure you would have mentioned it to me, especially when he insisted you’d been together for three weeks, so it raised a red flag. I thought it best to call and confirm with you. Octavia couldn’t help me. She said it was a possibility.”

“No. It’s not. We’re not dating. This is so fucked up. I’m on my way.”

“Clarke, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. He’s very disoriented right now, and I don’t want it to upset you. And I don’t want _you_ upsetting _him_.”

“Mom, he’s my best friend. He needs me!”

Abby sighs, which means she at least partially agrees with her.

“Give us a little time,” she says. “We’re taking him for a CT scan in a few minutes, and he’s already overwhelmed. He’s not going to like being told that his memories aren’t real. By three o’clock, I’ll let you in. Hopefully he’ll be more himself.”

“Fine,” Clarke grinds out. “I’ll be there.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Abby hangs up, it takes all of fifteen seconds for Octavia to call her.  

“What the fuck, Clarke,” she says, flat and level. “Is this for real? You two aren’t together?”

“We’re not. He has a brain injury, Octavia. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

That’s true of Octavia in general. They used to be much better friends, but when your best friend’s little sister uses him as a punching bag because she blames him for her husband’s death, you tend to choose sides, and Clarke did her choosing. Things are better now, but there’s always going to be that moment when Clarke walked into his apartment and found him bruised and crying and trying to slow the swelling on his face with a bag of frozen fucking peas. She likes Octavia fine, and she understands that she had been in a very dark place at the time, but…that memory hasn’t faded, and it’s _Bellamy_. Clarke will always choose him.

She _does_ feel real pity for Octavia when she hears the younger woman’s quiet groan of confusion. This can’t be easy for her. Neither of the Blakes have had the best experiences with hospitals, between their mom and Octavia’s father and Lincoln.

“Jesus,” Octavia sighs. “He sounded so sure. He even got all pissy with your mom when she doubted him.”

“It’s not like he’s making it up. He _really_ believes it. It happens sometimes with head injuries like this. The patient forms false memories. It’s just a freak thing.”

“I think he’s gonna need to hear it from you. After your mom left the room, he said you probably just didn’t want her to know you two were dating.”

“Of course he did,” Clarke sighs. Bellamy has changed a lot since she met him in college, but he’s never fully outgrown the bursts of self-loathing that used to haunt him. Of _course_ he would think she was ashamed of their fake new relationship. “Mom said she’s not letting me in until three because she doesn’t want me to freak him out. I’ll call everyone and let them know, but I’m telling them four.”

Octavia snorts on the other end of the line.

“Fair enough,” she says. “I’ll see you at three.”

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke hasn’t actually hugged Octavia since maybe her wedding. Octavia’s never been big on hugs, and neither has Clarke. They make exceptions for Bellamy, because he’s the most physically affectionate person in the world, but they’re more prone to friendly nods or the occasional pat on the shoulder when they’re left to their own devices, especially since Lincoln’s death.

But Octavia envelops Clarke in a bruising embrace the moment Clarke enters the hospital waiting room.

“Is he okay?” Clarke asks, shaking with the sudden overload of adrenaline. Octavia nods. She looks about ten years younger in her fear.

“Yeah, no change yet, but they did some scans and stuff. I didn’t follow a lot of it, but your mom seemed relieved. She and the other doctor, the neurologist, they said it was like some minor swelling in his brain or something? She said it should be okay, it should go down on its own, but he needs to stay here until they’re sure. He’s just still confused for now. He keeps forgetting things we told him earlier. Just like, little things. Like I told him you were coming at three, and he asked again like fifteen minutes later where you were. And earlier he forgot that Harper had been by to see him on her rounds, and he was like ‘isn’t Harper working today?’ Your mom says it’s normal, but it’s so fucking scary. And he’s really freaked out now that he knows he’s having problems. He keeps asking about memories, trying to figure out which ones are real. He _keeps_ calling you his fucking girlfriend, even though I keep telling him.” Now _she’s_ starting to sound freaked out. Clarke’s almost glad. She’s more capable of stability when someone else is freaking out worse.  

“Okay,” she breathes, and she pulls away. “Um, can I have a few minutes alone with him?”

“Yeah. I’m going to pick up some food. Niylah’s about to get off work, and I wanted to use her discount and take a few seconds to see her, so…”

Clarke smiles, more genuine than before. Niylah’s definitely the nicest of her exes, and she’s still a little baffled by the fact that she and Octavia lasted longer than a few dates, but she’s _glad_ for it. Clarke knows from experience that Niylah is a good person to lean on in times like this.

“I’ll text you if anything changes,” she promises, and it feels like an olive branch. Octavia hugs her again.

“Just…go easy on him, all right?” Octavia says. “You need to set him straight on the dating thing, but just…do it gently.”

“I will,” Clarke says, her stomach sinking. Octavia looks so serious. How upsetting is this going to be?

“Yeah,” Octavia says, tugging on one of Clarke’s curls the way she used to when they were friends. “I know you will.”

 

* * *

 

 

This would all be hard enough, and confusing enough, and delicate enough, so it really sucks that Clarke also has the misfortune of being in love with him.

It’s not an all-consuming love like it was with Lexa, or that giddy first love that she felt for Finn, or even that childhood longing for Wells. It’s sort of on the back-burner, and it’s been there for a while. It’s a love that allows her to date other people and allows her to be genuinely happy when he finds someone for himself. She’d embraced Gina and Echo into their circle easier than anyone else, and she still meets with Gina for drinks some weekends, even six years after that relationship ended. She still has a regular text thread with Echo – mostly memes about crossfit because they both hate it. They meet up every few weeks to do indoor rock-climbing, for some reason, and Clarke has no plans to cancel their next session, because the break-up was so amicable.

But always, in the back of her mind, there has been the certainty that if Bellamy ever even _hinted_ that he felt the same, she would jump on it.

He’s everything else to her. Why _wouldn’t_ she love him too? He’s ridiculously gorgeous, and affectionate, and he’s been her best friend since freshman year of _college._ That’s a decade of being everything to one another except for romantic partners. She just knows they’d kick ass as couple, too.

But the love she has for Bellamy is that grateful, kind of pathetic love where she’s just happy he’s in her life at all, so she’s not going to risk fucking it up and making it weird if he doesn’t feel the same. So she isn’t just deflecting or hiding from her feelings when she says she’s okay with never being with Bellamy as more than just a platonic life partner (even if Raven says she’s crazy every time this comes up). She isn’t just emotionally stunted (no matter _what_ Lexa said that one time). It’s just _Bellamy_. It’s a different love than she’s ever felt, and she’s comfortable with where things are.

 

* * *

 

 

She’s _not_ comfortable with the way he looks at her when she walks into his hospital room.

She had thought it would be easy enough. Walk in, joke around with him a little, maybe tease him about how he could have had a way cooler false memory, like an imagined threesome with Gemma Chan and Alicia Vikander or something.

Except, shit.

She’s never seen him look at _anyone_ the way he’s looking at her. With Gina, he was playful and affectionate. With Echo, he was intense and passionate. But this is just unfiltered _adoration_ , and she literally stops walking just inside the door in the shock of seeing that expression directed her way as he says her name with such obvious relief, like he’s been _waiting_ for her.

He always looks at her like she’s great. That’s one of the best things about being friends with Bellamy: his unwavering confidence in her that he’s never shy about expressing. She loves that about him. But he’s never looked at her like this, and it’s almost as if his expression is a mirror. It looks exactly like she feels when she looks at him. As if mere words like _best friend_ or _my favorite person_ aren’t enough to contain the feeling.

“Where’s my mom?” she blurts, and Bellamy frowns, the expression vanishing.

“She said she went to go get you.”

“Oh. She wasn’t there. Octavia caught me first. I’ll just…I’ll be right back.”

“Clarke, but…” he starts, but she doesn’t let him finish, ducking back into the hallway and leaning back against the wall beside it. She presses her hands to her cheeks, feeling the heat there, and she knows she’s probably gone all splotchy with it from just that single minute of interaction.

“Holy shit,” she breathes out, and then she goes to find her mother.

 

* * *

 

 

Working at the same hospital as Abby has its benefits. She knows her mother’s usual rounds, and so she finds her in Thelonious’s room after a very short search. Dr. Jaha is sleeping, but Abby’s checking his chart the way she always does when she has a free moment. Chemo is going well, but Abby’s like Clarke in this way: she’s always going to hover over her friends.

“Oh, there you are!” she whispers, ushering Clarke out and closing the door behind her to avoid waking him. “I went to meet you downstairs, but I saw Octavia waiting. I thought I’d give you two some space. Have you spoken to Bellamy yet?”

“Um, barely. I wanted to find you first. Do we know when he’ll get his memories back?”

“You know how this works, Clarke. Brain injuries are unpredictable.”

“Who’s his neurologist?”

“Indra.”

“Thank fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly. She assured us earlier that we’re not seeing anything out of the ordinary. It might be a little awkward for the two of you, but it’s a _minor_ lapse, and he’s very lucky. Just some slight swelling of the basal forebrain, which has triggered a few memory slips and some false memories. In all likelihood, the swelling will reduce in a few days at the most, and his memory will straighten itself out. He’s going to be monitored carefully, and he’s going to be _fine_ , okay?”

Something about Abby’s tone has always relaxed Clarke when she gets worked up. Maybe not quite as well as her father’s used to, but it helps that Abby _tries_. She tries so hard to be both parents, and just the act of trying can help Clarke feel better.

And it helps, too, that Abby is a ridiculously competent doctor. She’s easy to trust, even with something as important as Bellamy’s health.

“Okay,” Clarke says, and Abby pulls her into a hug.

“Now go talk to Bellamy. You’re not going to relax until you do. He’s aware that he’s experiencing false memories, and he’s aware of exactly what happened. All the heavy lifting has been done for you, but it’s scary for him. He needs you, okay? So no running.”

Clarke flushes a little, annoyed that her mother knows her usual move so well.

“No running,” she agrees with a sigh.

 

* * *

 

 

This time, when she makes her way back into Bellamy’s room, she avoids his eye until she can sink into the chair beside his bed. Instinct tells her to sit _on_ the bed, next to him, because if this was a normal day, that’s exactly what she would have done. If he wasn’t having weird fake memories of their stupid non-relationship, she’d probably fling herself dramatically into the bed with him, cradling his head to her chest and checking every inch of his scalp with her fingers while he laughed and tried to push her off. That’s the kind of friendship this is.

But it’s just too much.

“Hey,” she says, letting out a weary sigh and finally looking up at him. He’s frowning a bit, staring at the distance between them with narrowed eyes.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Um, you have a head injury and are in the _hospital_ ,” Clarke points out with an incredulous grin. “Of course I’m not okay!”

He smiles, and a little of that adoring look comes back into his eyes, but it’s easier to take now. _It’s temporary_ , she reminds herself, and that makes it easier.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says.

“Of course I’m here,” she replies. “I’ll be here until you kick me out.”

“Which we both know I’ll never do.”

“Guess I’ll be here forever, then.” She makes herself more comfortable. “Perks of being a hospital employee. They’re not gonna kick me out, either.”

“Oh, good point,” Bellamy says, clearly delighted.

She sighs, relieved, leaning back in her chair. This doesn’t have to be weird. He’s still Bellamy. A little awkward and uncertain, but he’s _Bellamy_. They’ve been through a lot in a decade of best friendship. This will be just another story to laugh about in a couple of weeks.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

_Shit_ , she thinks, but she nods.

“Yeah, of course,” she says. When he speaks next, he's quiet, looking at her from under disheveled black curls, and her heart actually _hurts_.

“We…we’re actually dating, right? I’m not making that up? I know that sounds crazy. Like, I remember asking you out. I remember exactly what I said, and exactly what you said, and…and all of it. And I get if you don’t want to tell your mom about us, but I’ve been getting kind of freaked out, thinking they might be…”

He trails off when he sees the look on her face.

“…right,” he finishes.

“No, um. No, we aren’t dating,” she says, as gently as she possibly can. She tries to smile, tries to avoid looking directly at Bellamy's eyes because he looks _crushed_ , and a little scared _,_ and she can’t deal with that. She wants to take his hand or something, but she’s not sure it would help, so she doesn’t. “You’ve never asked me out. And you should know I wouldn’t lie to my mom about dating you. Out of any of my friends, I could only make her happier if I started dating Raven, but you’re a close second. And I especially wouldn’t lie when your health was involved.” She lets out a shaky laugh. “This imaginary girlfriend Clarke seems like a real asshole.”

Bellamy flashes a grin, like a consolation prize for her attempt at lightness, but it’s pained. He tries to get a handle on his words, but can’t seem to figure out what he wants to say beside a weak half-stammer of denial. Then the door opens, and Clarke has never been so relieved to see Octavia in her _life_.

 

* * *

 

 

It doesn’t make any sense. He _remembers_ it.

He remembers being so nervous that he raised his gross, sweaty hand and let it drop _three_ times before he finally worked up the courage to knock on her door.

He remembers working out this whole speech in his head, telling her how long he’d liked her, and how he only realized that he _loved_ her after Echo mentioned it when they were breaking up. He remembers editing the speech five fucking times on his phone and making Miller read every iteration.

He remembers Clarke crying when he finally scrapped the whole speech and just told her, in his awkward, fumbly way, exactly how he felt.

He even remembers her making fun of him, saying, _you were so smooth in college. What happened to you? You used to have game_ just before surging up and kissing him. It was so _Clarke._

How can that be fake?

She and Octavia keep up conversation, catching up since they haven’t talked in a while, and Niylah keeps things flowing whenever they get a little weighed down by bad memories. Clarke moved to sit next to him on the bed, and it’s an actual fucking _effort_ not to touch her. Like, she has one knee bent under her, right in front of him, and he wants to put his hand on it. He feels like his hand _belongs_ on her knee, but apparently it doesn’t. He feels like he should kiss her, but apparently he never has.

What kind of head injury gives you vivid memories of something you’ve spent so much time wanting? How can the universe be _that_ much of a dick?

 

* * *

 

 

One downside to knowing Bellamy so well is that Clarke knows exactly how stressed out he is, no matter how good he is at fooling everyone else. When their friends arrive to visit, he smiles his way through jokes about his hard skull and his shitty memory, but he’s straining under the weight of it, and Clarke feels _guilty_.

Like, _I’m sorry I’m not your girlfriend. If I had any indication that you actually wanted that when you weren’t suffering from a brain injury, I’d be your girlfriend in a heartbeat._

Abby stops in to check on them a few times, and Indra kicks them out once so she can run some more tests, and their friends filter in and out for the rest of the afternoon, but Clarke doesn’t go home. She meant what she said: she’s not going anywhere.

The only time she leaves the room for more than a quick snack break is when Miller appears in the doorway. Bellamy’s deep in conversation with Jasper about some game they’ve both been playing, so he doesn’t notice, and Miller jerks his head out into the hall, so Clarke goes.

She’s a little wary. Miller is Bellamy’s friend first, and him wanting to talk to her privately is a little strange. In a day that’s already been full of strangeness, she knows she doesn’t want more.

“Octavia told me that he thinks you guys are dating,” he says the second she’s closed the door.

“Yeah. It’s the brain injury.”

“So it’s like the opposite of amnesia? His brain created fake memories instead of taking them away?”

“I mean…sort of. It’s called Confabulation. His doctor thinks it’s temporary, but brain injuries are weird.”

“Aren’t you a doctor?”

“I’m an intern. I can use casual lingo if I want. Plus, I’m kind of freaking out.”

Miller softens slightly, smiles a little.

“Yeah. I can see that.”

“You’d be freaking out too if your best friend suddenly thought you were a couple.”

“My best friend is Jackson, so he’d be right.”

“God, shut up.”

Miller chuckles slightly, but he still looks a little off, and he finally sighs.

“Look, this is probably not even relevant, but I’d feel like a tool if I kept it to myself and it ended up being important. Plus, uh. Raven and Murphy are in the waiting room, and I overheard them talking, and it feels like, I don’t know. Maybe this is less a betrayal of Bellamy’s trust and more of a…nudge?”

“What is it?” Clarke asks, concerned. Miller looks drawn even further into himself, his arms tight across his chest, and he kicks at the linoleum a little until he finally pulls out a phone. Bellamy’s phone, Clarke realizes.

“I picked this up from Octavia earlier because I wanted to show you. I guess he was telling her the memory of when he asked you out, earlier, back when he was trying to prove it was real. When she was telling me about it, I realized that some of it was actually _true._ ” He flips the phone around, and she sees that he’s in Notes, and it’s…

“What the fuck is this?” she asks. She doesn’t try to read the whole thing. Just enough to get that it’s directed to _her._ Like a love letter. In fucking _Notes._

“He was _going_ to tell you how he feels. A couple of weeks ago, maybe a week after he broke up with Echo? He had this whole plan. Wrote out this speech and made me read it, like, eleven times. Raven and Murphy were joking about how you’re all, uh, in love with him or whatever, so I’m assuming he never got to it, or you two’d be a thing. I tried asking him about it last week, but he told me to drop it. Said you were already dating someone, though Jackson said that’s bullshit, so I don’t know what Bell’s deal was.”

She remembers now. Bellamy showing up at her door one night a few weeks ago, looking uncomfortable and nervous. She’d invited him in, but Indra’s daughter Gaia was on the couch, and he stammered out some excuse and left. She had assumed that he’d wanted to talk about the breakup with Echo or something, and had privately been glad for Gaia’s presence, feeling like she’d dodged a bullet.

“Shit,” she breathes. “I’m… _oblivious_.”

“Yeah?” Miller asks. He looks profoundly relieved. “Does this mean you’re going to put him out of his misery? Because if I just fucked this up for him…”

“You didn’t. I love you.” Clarke flings her arms around Miller’s neck, and he laughs, surprised, and hugs her back.

 

* * *

 

 

She finds it _impossible_ to wait, but she has to. She privately tells Indra about the revelation: that there’s a _reason_ for the false memory. Indra doesn’t really think it’s relevant, but she tells Clarke (in her reassuring, no-bullshit way) that if anything it’s a good sign that the memory wasn’t created out of nothing.

Clarke sort of thinks it’s a good sign too, though not necessarily for his brain health. Just mostly for the odds of making that fake memory into a real one at some point in the near future.

Then she goes back and holds court with Bellamy and all their friends, giddy with the knowledge that her feelings are actually somehow _returned_.

Emori and Echo bring baked goods that the four of them eat on Bellamy’s bedspread, much to his annoyance.

Raven and Murphy waltz in with a bunch of stuff for Bellamy’s hospital stay – his Switch, an extra pillow, a stack of books, and a cozy hoodie that Clarke immediately steals. When Bellamy asks how they got into his apartment, they both laugh at him and refuse to answer.

Miller is gruffly irritated with Bellamy for being injured and making him care about him, and Jackson does the thing Clarke always does too, where he automatically doctors Bellamy even though Bellamy’s not his patient and Jackson doesn’t even work at this hospital anymore.

Bellamy pretends at being annoyed with all the attention, but Clarke can tell that he secretly loves it, so she doesn’t even mind sharing time with all of them. Once visiting hours are over, Abby stops by a few times before leaving for the day, each time more motherly than the last. Harper bustles in and out, having switched floors just so she can be his nurse, occasionally dropping kisses to the bruise on his head that always make him smile. She brings updates from Monty and Jasper and all the others once they’re gone, because Bellamy still has too much of a headache to look at his phone to read the group chat, and Clarke has turned her phone off out of solidarity.

It’s hours later when they’re finally alone, and Bellamy badly wants to play Zelda but can’t deal with the light from the screen yet, so Clarke starts a new game on his Switch and settles into bed beside him, making him close his eyes and just listen.

“I can’t believe you’ve never played this,” he murmurs sleepily when she falls off a cliff for the fifth time.

“I can’t believe this stamina wheel is so small. What the hell?”

“Just keep playing. You can get upgrades.”

Clarke hums in acknowledgement and peeks over at him. He doesn’t have his eyes closed, but he’s not watching the screen, either. He’s sort of gazing into the middle distance, which is somewhere near her collarbone. They’re propped up against the pillows, his head resting against her shoulder, his arm around her waist. It’s the kind of comfort they’d normally provide each other, but it’s different now, and Clarke can’t wait any longer.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks. He glances up at her, seeming surprised to find her looking back at him.

“About Zelda?”

“No, dummy. About the…uh. The dating thing.”

“Oh,” Bellamy sighs. He looks back at nothing. “No. Not really. I’m sorry if I’ve been weird. It’s just so fucked up.”

“I get that. Are they vivid memories?”

“Um. Yeah, kind of. I mean, they’re not…maybe it’s a little hazy, but they seemed real enough.”

“Seemed? Are they starting to go?”

“No, not really. Just, well. I know they’re _not_ real now, so.”

He trails off at the end, still sounding so _lost_ , and that’s it. Clarke experiences bravery in short bursts of boldness, and she feels adrenaline filling her now. She’s not going to have another shot at this. She’s kept her feelings in check for a _decade_. She doesn’t want to have to do it for a whole second one. She pauses the Switch and puts it down on the bed between them, taking a deep breath.

“Miller told me that you were going to tell me that you had feelings for me. He says that you came over to my apartment a few weeks ago, and you had a plan to ask me out. You had it written on your phone. Is that part of the memory?”

Bellamy frowns, sitting up and removing his arm from around her, going stiff with confusion. Clarke turns to face him. She puts a hand on his chest, maintaining contact so he’ll know she doesn’t feel weird about this.

“I…I show up to your apartment, yeah. And I have notes on my phone.”

“That part was real,” she tells him gently. “Miller showed me.”

“Why would he do that?” Bellamy asks, his voice a harsh whisper. One shaking hand drags through his curls. She’s still weirdly calm. Placid, almost. She would have thought she’d be more nervous about this.

“Because he thought it might be relevant. The memory wasn’t entirely fake, which Indra says is good. You just remembered a different outcome, and your brain took it from there. Filled in the gaps. Assumed we were together.”

“Fuck,” Bellamy breathes out. He makes some half-hearted attempt to move away from her, and she can feel the tension in him. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe he told you that. _Jesus_. Clarke, I...”

“Do you want me to tell you what I remember?” she asks softly. Bellamy doesn’t answer, still not looking at her, and her heart clenches to see how genuinely upset he is about this. She can’t blame him. If Raven went to Bellamy and told him how long Clarke’s been nursing this crush, she’d probably never forgive her. Especially if she still thought that Bellamy didn’t reciprocate. But she knows, now. It has changed everything completely. “I remember you came to my door, and then you got all weird and left because you saw that Gaia was there.”

“Gaia?” Bellamy asks.

“She’s actually your neurologist’s daughter. Marcus tried to set us up like six months ago, remember? I told you all about it. The date was a disaster, but she’s actually pretty cool. She’s been job hunting in the area, so we caught up. You must have thought it was a date, but it wasn’t.”

“Gaia,” Bellamy says again, thoughtful, like he’s trying to remember.

“Did you do the whole speech?” she asks gently. When he looks at her, she elaborates. “In your memory. Did you do the whole speech?”

“Oh. Uh, no. Even fake me is totally incompetent, apparently.”

At his sad little laugh, his terrible attempt at acting normal, and the way he looks immediately back down at his hands in his lap, Clarke can’t help but smile.

She just…she never thought they’d be _here_.

“I’m not surprised it worked,” she says. “Whatever you said, it would have worked. Because I’m sure fake me has been kind of in love with you just as long as I have.”

It’s out there now. She’s said it. She can’t ever _un_ say it.

It’s horrifying.

But it’s only horrifying because she has spent _so long_ denying her feelings for Bellamy, keeping them locked away where even _she_ couldn’t really see them, and it feels impossible that she can admit them without the world literally imploding.

But he’s the one who inadvertently admitted it first. This is kind of the least she can do.

He finally registers her words and looks up from his hands, his brows furrowing, his eyes narrowing as he looks at her.

“What?” he asks.

“You heard me,” she says. She doesn’t look away. He gives her a helpless, slowly growing smile.

“Maybe. I don’t know. My memory’s been unreliable lately.”

“I’m in love with you, Bellamy,” she says. She says it plainly, maintaining eye contact, and it makes his breath falter and his smile grow even more, getting blinding. “And if you hadn’t overreacted about Gaia, you would’ve known it three weeks ago.”

“I love you too,” he says. “I…don’t remember the speech. But the gist of it was just that I’m in love with you, which I already said.”

She smiles, and she settles back against his side. He takes a second to adjust before tentatively putting his arm around her.

“I’m not going to kiss you when you still can’t remember everything,” she tells him. She picks up the Switch again and resumes her game. She can feel Bellamy’s smile when he presses his lips to the top of her head.

“Okay,” he says. “But, uh…”

“When I’m confident you’re one hundred percent my Bellamy, yeah. I’m going to kiss you. If that’s fine.”

“That’s more than fine,” he breathes out, still half-disbelieving. He plays with the ends of her hair, which means he’s thinking. “So if your mom asks again…”

She laughs the kind of laugh that’s really over the top because it’s so relieved. It’s just such a _Bellamy_ thing to bring up.

“If my mom asks again, you have my full permission to tell her we’re dating. I’ll even back you up this time.”

“Okay. Just wanted to check.”

 

* * *

 

 

“When’s my birthday?”

“October 18th.”

“Who’s my favorite Star Wars character?”

“It’s a tie between Princess Leia and Cassian Andor.”

“What’s my favorite book?”

“You tell people it’s Pride and Prejudice, but it’s definitely Catching Fire.”

“What’s my…”

“Clarke!” Bellamy laughs, interrupting her, zipping up his bag and making sure that the hospital room is empty of the rest of his stuff. He turns to face her where she’s standing in the doorway, arms folded, looking at him like she’s a fucking detective. “You realize I never forgot normal details, right? I promise, my memory is perfect. I now remember in _disgusting_ detail making a dick of myself at your apartment because I thought I’d missed my chance. I remember the two weeks that followed, trying to get you to talk about your new girlfriend but failing because you’re oblivious.”

“Okay, also because I wasn’t _dating_ her so I had no idea what you were trying to get at, but fine! I believe you.”

She steps a little closer and smiles up at him. It’s been a long two days, not being able to kiss her. Which is funny, because he spent the last decade not kissing her just fine, and now he wonders how he even survived _._ He grins down at her.

“I also remember the humiliation of my asshole brain convincing me that we were actually dating.”

“Asshole brain? No, _genius_ brain, Bellamy. We would have just pined away for the rest of our lives if you hadn’t smashed your skull.”

“It was a _bump._ You’re so dramatic.”

“I would have been Best Lady at your wedding. You would have been godfather to my six dogs. We would have been roommates at the nursing home in _separate beds_!”

“Oh, come on. A little faith. I probably would have made a move eventually.”

Clarke makes a rude snorting noise and an equally rude gesture, but then she _does_ move in and kiss him.

“So how’s that rate?” she asks when she pulls away, her eyes a little hazy, her smile slightly dreamy. “Was fake me a better kisser?”

“Fake you was crying tears of joy when we kissed, so…probably not. I mean, it was flattering, but…”

“ _Probably not_ isn’t good enough, Bellamy,” Clarke says with mock seriousness, winding her arms around his neck and standing on her toes so they’re closer to the same height. “We’re going to have to keep doing it until fake me is replaced in your mind completely.”

“Is that your professional medical advice?” he asks, and her smile is even more brilliant up close like this.

“Yeah, smartass,” she says. “It is. I can’t believe I actually _like_ you.”

“Ah, you said you loved me.” When Clarke opens her mouth to respond, grin already forming, he shakes his head. “And don’t try to act like that was a fake memory. It’s _way_ too soon for that.”

Clarke laughs and kisses him again, and then she backs away towards the door, waiting for him to grab his bag so he can take her hand and follow her out of the room.

“Fine. I’ll give it a week. But you should know I’m going to be making those jokes for the rest of our lives.”

Bellamy smiles at that. He’s pretty sure he physically _can’t_ stop smiling.

“I think I can handle that,” he says.


End file.
